


you bring me home

by hippocampers



Category: History Boys - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 17:23:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11949039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hippocampers/pseuds/hippocampers
Summary: When he gets in to said living room (and dining room and kitchen), Don can hear what he thinks is a duet of David and Cyndi Lauper from the bedroom. He smiles to himself, wiping rain-wet shoes on the mat and shaking out his umbrella. He could get used to this, not coming home to an empty flat.





	you bring me home

**Author's Note:**

> title from "heaven is a place on earth" by belinda carlisle

If he were a colour, Don thinks he might very well be magnolia. Goes with everything, inoffensive, and open with a reassuring underlying warmth. But it’s _dull_. The living room (and dining room and kitchen, all in one) in their brand-new flat is magnolia. True to form, it’s painfully bland.

When he gets in to said living room (and dining room and kitchen), Don can hear what he thinks is a duet of David and Cyndi Lauper from the bedroom. He smiles to himself, wiping rain-wet shoes on the mat and shaking out his umbrella. He could get used to this, not coming home to an empty flat. Their mattress – currently their entire bed, yet to find a frame they can afford – is propped up against the wall. Don assumes this is to save it from stains - not that it isn’t stained enough already. Second-hand mattresses aren’t the cleanest but it’s big enough for them both, even if David has to press himself up against Don’s chest and Don’s feet dangle over the edge. It’s enough.

He makes his way to the bedroom, opening the door as quietly as he can and leaning against the frame. A smile tugs at Don’s lips. David’s yet to notice his presence, obviously occupied by the task at hand and the music bouncing off the walls. It’s quite the sight; David’s in those dungarees Don sort-of hates, the front splattered with an array of different paints from a previous project, but surprisingly not the orange he’s currently slathering messily across their bedroom. The denim is tight enough that the curve of David’s backside is on display, and it sends a rush of heady affection to Don’s stomach knowing that this is a sight just for him. One he might come home to every day now.

“David, love, I thought we’d agreed on something neutral.”

It makes him chuckle to see David startle a little, turning with a sheepish grin to face Don, paintbrush in hand. “Well. Yes. But that’s a little… plain, don’t you think? This is far livelier! It’s the nineties now, Donald! Live a little!” His gestures with the paintbrush shoot splatters of sunset orange across the floor. Don sends a quiet thanks to the man above that David’s at least thought to put down tarpaulin.

He smiles fondly, shaking his head. “It was _meant_ to make the room look bigger than a cardboard box. But you’re right,” Don acquiesces. “The orange is better. Brighter.” The reflection of the paint gives an almost comical glow to David’s pale skin, as though he’s had a bad spray tan, but it serves only to heighten the sincere affection Don feels for this ridiculous man. “I like it.”

“And we were going to do neutral and accessorise with orange anyway, so I thought; ‘Why not go all the way?’” David beams. “If we hate it, I’ll do it all over myself. We can – it’s ours.”

“That it is,” Don smiles. He wants David in his arms, wants to kiss him stupid and go back to the painting tomorrow. But not yet. This is a new jumper after all; no need to stain it in a fit of passion.

David sighs happily, setting down the brush and looking at his handiwork with significant pride. “Can you believe it, Don? All ours. For good, if we want it. I know it’s small and everything, but… I love it. Don’t you?”

 _I love **you**_ , Don thinks, but he nods to David’s words all the same. _I’d love anywhere with you._ “I do.”

If David were a paint, he’d be something like orange, or purple, or teal. Any number of gorgeous colours that are maybe a little intense at times, but beautiful all the same. Without them, life’s bland and empty. An expanse of nothing but… magnolia. It’s fitting, Don reflects. If he’s the foundations – the magnolia walls, the stripped-wood floorboards – David’s the bits and pieces that make a place worth living in. He’s the cushions on the sofa, the rug on the floor, the paintings, the knickknacks, the patterned mugs. That’s what makes it a home, not just a house or a flat.

There’s an interruption to his reverie in the form of David sidling up to him. The dungarees are discarded now, leaving him in a t-shirt that was definitely Don’s and some boxers. He grins cheekily, nudging a gentle nose against Don's cheek, and Don can’t resist letting his arms settle at David’s waist to keep him close.

“Hello again,” David murmurs. “You got distracted.”

Don quirks a brow. “You got undressed.”

“Didn’t want to get paint on your jumper. It’s Marks and Spencers after all.”

A laugh bubbles up in Don’s throat, and he drops a kiss to David’s paint-speckled hair. “Thanks for your concern. Time for a break anyway, I think. You’ve worked hard today.”

“I bloody have, yeah!” David nods, pulling back to meet Don’s eyes as though to convey his suffering. “Two coats and everything. Only that little bit near the top to get now. What’s for dinner?”

There’s nothing in the fridge but milk for cups of tea, and half a block of cheese. A trip to Tescos sounds… intensely unappealing. Don considers the options briefly, but settles on a classic; “How about fish and chips?”

This clearly pleases David, if the grin tugging up the corner of his lips is anything to go by. “Mmm, sounds good. No vinegar on mine though, remember.”

“Oh, I’m going, am I? After a hard day at the mill?”

David scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You work in an office, Donald. And I can’t go out in my pants, can I?”

“Mm, I don’t know,” Don winks. “One way to meet the neighbours.” He dodges the paint splatters that come his way with a chuckle, ducking out of the room. “Alright, alright! No vinegar for you, and normal peas instead of mushy.”

“You’ve got it, darling. I’ve trained you well,” David grins at him sweetly, not bothering to slip into the dungarees again before bending over to dip the brush in the paint once more. “See you in a bit.”

“Yeah,” Don echoes, grabbing his umbrella from the stand by the door. He allows one last glance to the bedroom before he goes. David’s on tiptoes to paint higher up the wall, a sliver of skin on display. God, he can’t wait to get home. “See you in a bit.”

**Author's Note:**

> cheesy title, sorry lads.
> 
> i'm sad so here's some soft boys moving into their first flat and sleeping on the floor. 
> 
> i'm somewhat on [tumblr](http://eponymousorange.tumblr.com) if you want to come and say hi. comments always hugely appreciated!


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